Noryangjin, 1 am.[i]
He remembers the same ogling eyes that peered out at
him as he stood outside in a night market queue. They
swayed from side to side and he felt as if he
were the one standing in line for execution. Harsh
lights reflecting off their piscine sheen hologrammed
like nightlife.
the fish float yet?
not yet, he replies.
The lake clouded murky overnight, but no fish had died.
the fish won’t float today, he thinks.
The sea clouded murky overnight, but no fish had died.
No shining bellies rebellious against the sunlight, the
only sparkle in the taupe coated water in glaring heat.
At night they sway from side to side, and the dark cavity
almost returns to their glossy eyes, peering this way and
that, mouths dumbly open, observing faces, pressed
against acrylic walls. But still they spoke nothing.
the fish float yet?
he’d seen them before. fat gigantic
tunas. their bellies robust and bare protruding
through undone buttons, engrossed in semiotics
of subordination and disaffection, revelling in
sequined dresses hologramming the good life, where the undying city
brims over shot glasses greased over with raw streaks of fatty yellowtail,
their company revolting but most of us are defunct anyways,
sheer belligerence shoving us through the night again.
the fish float yet?
at him as he stood outside in a night market queue. The
vacuum trembling with an empty scream, sucked in
through a dumb mouth. The blade cuts through the
crack of the gill, tracing the guideline, like a sewing
manual, or a kid’s craft kit, like it had always been
waiting for this decapitation, like it was born for this
tearing’s completion, in a slash. All the light in the night
street huddle onto its edge for a split of a split second. A
prism of glaring signs, frightened, disperses in hysteric
scales. Flashing warnings. Then
the exquisite flaying. Delicate removal of wispy skin.
The flesh presents itself, naked, soft, milky, pale,
the fish doesn’t float today. instead,
carefully laid out in lotus flowers, it observes with raw stares.
the glasses they see us through are smaller, thinner, more refractory, cupped
in tiny amounts of liquid, brimming over shot glasses greased over, their company revolting but most of us are defunct anyways, running on
desperation, fuelled by suspicion, look at us sit and look at that thing get scalped. instead,
we hold a staring contest.
He felt as if he were the one standing in line for execution
when he’d won.[ii] He had won[iii] many times, paid this
round again and again, and still he felt lost. Sheer
belligerence getting him through the night. The good life
hologrammed on their sequinned skins, like nightlife.
[i] Noryangjin [노량진;鷺梁津] a neighbourhood of Dongjak-gu in Seoul, South Korea. Originally 노들나루[nodeulnaru]. Seoul’s biggest wholesale fish market is located here. Most famous for the ‘exam village’, where more than 30,000 residents live in tiny rooms and prepare for the national exam for high civil service positions, the preparation spanning from one to ten years.
[ii] won [원 願] v. to desire.
[iii] won [원] n. the official currency of South Korea, in effect since 1962 June 10th. Sign = ￦.
Wendy Min Ji Choi is from Seoul, South Korea, studying Comparative Literature at University College London and working as a part-time translator while aspiring to become a poet. She has been previously shortlisted for the 2017 Oxford Brookes International Poetry Competition. She spends most of her time performing in poetry slams and open mics around London.